


May We Sit On These Steps (And Let The Rain Do The Talking)

by Yelposaurus



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Friendship, Just something I wanted to share, Personification, Quiet, Rain, Redemption, Sins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 18:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20157829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yelposaurus/pseuds/Yelposaurus
Summary: We sit there, on those dusty, dirty steps outside our door, and talk. It's become something similar to a routine, almost, for us to sit together, here on these three slabs of concrete. It's calm. Peaceful, if you compare it to the chaos that we'll soon have to return to.They were perfect creatures, curious to the point of intrigue and no further than that; nostalgic to the point of melancholy, and maybe a little over.- Exurb1a, The Fifth Science





	May We Sit On These Steps (And Let The Rain Do The Talking)

We sit there, on those dusty, dirty steps outside our door, and talk. It's become something similar to a routine, almost, for us to sit together, here on these three slabs of concrete. It's calm. Peaceful, if you compare it to the chaos that we'll soon have to return to. And so we relish in these short moments, when we can finally _breathe_, and relax. We're able to shrug off our burdens, in these moments we share together, even if it's only for a little while before we have to haul them back over our shoulders and set off stumbling. 

Our conversations are easy. I don't have to worry about being asked any questions that God knows I can't, I _won't_ answer. They know the line, and in return, I don't cross theirs. It's a slow back and forth movement, our shared words. We speak when we want to, and silence is answer enough for the both of us. Sometimes, one of us will bring food, or the other will bring drinks, and sometimes we'll bring nothing at all save for the burdens on our shoulders. But it is enough for the both of us, so we find ourselves here every time. 

Today, our conversation is slow, and easy. We talk about anything or everything that comes to mind, and when one of us doesn't answer, the other understands. It's peaceful, and the atmosphere is one that we can both say we love. One of us has brought drinks with them today, although I can't remember which one of us it was. Our conversation lulls, and neither one of us really cares enough to revive it. We sit there, on those three dusty steps, and revel in the end of our time together for the day. It's sad, really, but the feeling is muffled by the prospect of the next time we'll meet here. We stand, and throw our sacks filled with our sins over our shoulders. Neither one of us says goodbye to the other, because there is no need. We know each other well enough now than to waste such words. 

The times that we meet slowly become further and further away from one to the next. And although it saddens me to say it, I think that the growing rift between me and them was caused by the both of us. There is nothing different about the way we interact, if only less words are spoken. But we know each other so well now that such bothersome sounds are voiced only few and far between. It is on one day, when we sit on those three dusty steps, in front of our door, that we both come to a realisation. This meeting here, with our sacks full of sins beside us and the few words we share crackling in the silence - this meeting is the _last one_ we will ever have the privilege of sharing. 

And this realisation, this dark cloud that has been drawn over our heads in this moment doubles the weight of our sins, even if we do not know it just then. Silence stretches in the short space between us, broken only by our booming thoughts. And then we stop thinking, as it is too loud in the presence of that vast distance between me and them, even if it is only a few centimetres. 

The soft _pitter patter_ of raindrops slowly carve away at the silence that we both left there for far too long. It eases the tension, and let's us think again, our voices drowned out by the sound of the rain. It's calming. We sit there for a little longer than we probably should, but it doesn't really matter. We haven't said a word that the other could hear since the water started falling, and that continues as we stand from our places on the steps. We notice that our burdens we must carry are heavier, but neither of us mention it. We stand in the rain for a few moments, relishing in each others presence. And then we turn to face the other, and say our last words. 

"Goodbye," they say, and it doesn't surprise me that they used their voice. 

"Yes," I say in return. "Let us remember this moment." I look out to the rain, to the sky, to the stars. I look out to the rain.

_Pitter patter,_ goes the rain.

"Please," they say, and I know what they want, even if I myself do not agree.

In that moment of silence, I reach inside of myself to find those puddles of bravery, taking in the ones around us. It takes a second, but I drag my eyes to theirs before the waters of courage run dry through my fingers and the oceans of cowardice swarm like wolves.

"Goodbye," I say, and look away.

After that, we turn around and walk our separate ways, our thoughts succumbing to the rain around us as we splash through the puddles. 

And if we ever do meet again, on those three dusty steps, with our door behind us and the rain falling from the sky with the sacks full of our sins nowhere to be seen, nobody would be there to know except the two of us, and the steps.

_Pitter patter,_ goes the rain.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone does actually read this, then I would like to say that these first three works have been posted so close together because I have a few already written. After this, stories won't be as frequent, as its had for me to get inspired enough to write anything. So I'll update when I can.


End file.
